There are some things that are not meant to be seen
Some things that were made to remain hidden
To remain in the darkness, covered, unsaid
Some things that I keep hidden even from myself
Things that, were they to appear,
Could break me
.
There are good times, when I forget
Times when I convince myself those things are not there
That I read them in a poem, or a book, or a song
Good times when all of that seems foreign and distant
Those are the days I have the strength to breathe, to laugh,
To live.
.
But there are days when those are the only things I see
The only things I hear, the only things that reign in me
Those are the days when I forget  how light looks like
When I forget what the beating of my heart sounds like
And all I hear are the voices inside me,
And I silently scream.
.
And there are days when there’s a strange peace
An odd balance, a numbness, a greyness spreading inside me
Days when everything is muffled and blurry and barely there
Those are my favourite days, the days when I’m barely there
The days when I don’t need to remember to breathe,
To not die.